


I Was A Stranger, You Took Me In

by berlynn_wohl



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Crying, Established Relationship, First Time, Fix-It, Intersex Loki (Marvel), M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Endgame, Reunions, Vaginal Sex, but somehow also, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 19:09:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19115908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berlynn_wohl/pseuds/berlynn_wohl
Summary: Loki just wants ten minutes to regroup. Then he wants to see Thor again. Then he wants some of that diiiiiiick you know how it goes.





	I Was A Stranger, You Took Me In

It wasn’t so much like waking up from a nightmare; it was more like waking up from a nightmare and finding yourself at a party that you had unwittingly been the life of until moments ago. “You were all in my dream,” Loki wanted to say to the aggravated heroes who surrounded him. “I was being chased, and all of you were there.”

Though he wasn’t feeling quite like himself, he did manage to fire off a couple of zingers, apparently more amusing to himself than anyone else, for Thor was quick to slap the muzzle on him. This made the situation with the manacles harder to deny, and as he drew himself more fully from the fog of his thralldom, he came to accept that he was a prisoner.

It was not in his nature to accept such a fate – he was someone who, the moment punishment was on the horizon, began cataloguing and sorting ways to weasel out of it, probably at someone else’s expense. But right now, confinement in Odin’s dungeons was the safest place he could think of, at least until he figured out a way to evade Thanos and his various operatives throughout the multiverse. Though he was being escorted in shackles and a muzzle, he was in fact already an escaped prisoner, and his erstwhile captors would hunt their quarry with inexhaustible ruthlessness.

The scuffle barely got his attention at first. He was still collecting himself, calling on every inner resource to remember his life and himself before Thanos – thinking him powerful enough to make a worthy lackey but puny enough to succumb to his control – had plucked him from oblivion. Before that? The revelation that he was a monster, the runty spawn of a savage, an unworthy, pitiful, unloved stranger in the house of Odin.

It was only when the Tesseract bumped his foot that he shook himself free of both the dreamy haze of Thanos’ control and his rage-inducing memories. He continued to ignore the ruckus that was going on behind him; it was nothing more than a useful distraction. He bent down, picked up the Tesseract, and going against every instinct in his body, like pressing a knife to his gut, he opened a portal.

This time, teleporting was not so catastrophic to his well-being as it had been when he had been transported to Midgard by The Other – he still had to use up his meager remaining sorcerous powers to protect himself from being torn apart by the Tesseract’s energy, and once again he had, only moments before, been tortured and broken. But being flung about by the Hulk was a mere shadow of what Thanos had done to him prior to sending him on his mission. Loki wished to collapse to the ground upon reaching his destination, but this was impossible, for he, having used the Tesseract quickly and without thought, had transported himself to The Vast: an endless expanse of emptiness where one dwelled without truly existing.

For the first time in his thousand-year existence, Loki thought, _Finally._ _All I want is some peace and quiet for one minute_.

It was difficult not to dwell on his humiliation: spending the last few days carrying around the implement of his own enslavement, wielding it as though he were or could be a tyrant. How embarrassing. And how weak and sick he must have seemed to the Midgardians, barely able to stay on his feet and fend off the simplest weapons of war – _arrows_ , for pity’s sake – a shadow of the god he was on his best days.

But he banished this useless line of thought; there was no one to pity him here. He needed to focus on his next course of action, which he supposed was getting himself out of the manacles and muzzle which still held him. They were strong, meant for a powerful being, but no one truly knew the extent of Loki’s abilities except Loki. Here in The Vast, with no distractions, he was able to devote a meditative level of thought to the intricacies of the devices, pulling at their mechanisms until their various parts dispersed into the void.

He rubbed at his wrists; now that his mortifying confinement was over, he felt more keenly the stinging of his wounds, the soreness in his bones, the emptiness left by the exhaustion of his magic. He was safe here, but it was no place to stay for a number of reasons, the most important being that there was nothing here to replenish him. He had a trance state which he occasionally utilized to rest, but he wondered if, having entered it here in this place, he might never wake from it. He would have to go somewhere else, sooner rather than later.

Loki had been to many worlds, some of which, admittedly, he had been plainly told he was not welcome to return to. Others might prove a suitable sanctuary, though, whether their inhabitants were aware that they were providing such a thing or not. But were any of them as safe as the prison beneath Asgard’s palace? Perhaps he had made the wrong decision, in fleeing that fate. At least if he were a prisoner there, he might still see Thor occasionally.

Funny that seeing Thor was where his thoughts had turned to suddenly. Being brainwashed into cold-blooded conquest and mass murder ought to have compromised Thor’s goodwill towards him somewhat. Then again, when Thor had confessed that he had mourned for Loki when they all thought him dead, and begged him to return to Asgard, Loki felt a stab of remorse, even through Thanos’ control. He wanted to return to Thor, of course he did. He loved Thor with a celestial fervor, with every fiber of his being. Even after all the revelations, and then all the destruction, his adoration and affection for Thor remained intact, because it was the core of his existence, the truest thing he’d ever felt.

If he could, he would go back in time, erasing all that he had done, choosing some other kind of mischief instead, amusing himself by making a fool of everyone around him _without_ tearing apart the royal house and setting whole worlds against each other. That envy he’d always felt when he witnessed the adulation Thor received seemed idyllic now, after all that he had set in motion.

But he could not go back in time. He could not fix what had been broken...in _this_ universe. He did, however, have the Tesseract, which could take him to a world where all that had never happened, where he could enjoy the company of a Thor whose view of him had not been jaundiced by the mistakes he’d made. It was selfish, unhelpful, and just a little bit cruel to those he would be leaving behind – and thus, would be quite consistent with his usual behavior.

All he had to do was find the right universe.

He knew himself well enough to know that a serene and peaceful existence of study, mutual affection, and sensory indulgence would soon bore him to tears. But after all he had been through, a chance to collect his thoughts, heal his wounds, and enjoy some quiet for just a few days appealed to him, at least until it would be time to seek a new adventure. He could enjoy the company of some other Thor – not his Thor, sadly, but he could probably never truly have that one back now. But this new Thor would still be naïve and open-hearted...not to mention lustful.

And so Loki’s goal, for the moment, was to find an Asgard where the native Loki was away, perhaps on some sort of diplomatic mission or hunting trip. He could show up, claim to be the native Loki, have a little rest and relaxation at home, and then leave to pursue whatever struck his fancy next. It would be confusing indeed when the native Loki returned, but that was not his problem, and it would certainly warrant little investigation, as his reputation for trickery would provide all the explanation his baffled hosts would likely care to have.

The challenging part would be to find such an Asgard, where he could insinuate himself in the absence of his counterpart. The Tesseract would not take him backward or forward in time; he could not find just any friendly Asgard and hop around within it from day to week to month until the other Loki went on leave. He would have to jump from universe to universe, until he found a good one where the other Loki was gone _at this very moment_. An exhausting prospect, but he would do it to get what he wanted.

Each time Loki made the jump with the Tesseract, he would immediately conceal himself; he assumed that Heimdall inhabited each of these Asgards, and hid himself from sight as best he could so as not to attract the attention of an all-seeing eye. Then, he would poke around until he determined that this was not the Asgard he wanted to be in. Occasionally he would snatch a bite of food from a kitchen, right under the noses of the staff, or attempt to sleep hidden away somewhere. He was less successful at the latter effort; though exhausted, he feared to let his guard down, remembering The Other’s promise that there was no place for him to hide. He did not know enough about the Tesseract to know whether using it many times made him more difficult to find, as his trail was so erratic, or easier to find, if each use of it left a trackable energy signature.

At each Asgard he visited, he would listen to the palace chatter, until he either heard someone say something that made him certain his native counterpart was nearby, or until he saw himself with his own eyes. The whole process was frustratingly tedious. But after a dozen or so jumps, he found himself in a palace with no trace of himself at all. No shadow of Loki was glimpsed. No word of him was spoken. No quarters seemed set aside for him. Loki snuck around until he made it to the throne room, where the mural on the ceiling depicted Odin, Frigga, Thor...and no one else. In this version of Asgard, Odin had never happened upon a puny Frost Giant foundling and raised it as his own.

That could mean any number of things. Perhaps the name of Loki was feared throughout the Nine Realms, having become a formidable successor to Laufey. Or perhaps this Odin had felt no pity in his heart for the abandoned runt, and left him to die of exposure. In any event, Loki had reached the end of his patience, and decided to stay here, trusting himself to be able to improvise his way out of any trouble that his ignorance of the goings-on in this universe would bring.

He wanted to encounter Thor first – his guileless, affable brother would harbor the least amount of suspicion about a new arrival in search of a little hospitality. That was, at least, the first and most crucial reason he wanted to see Thor. There were others.

He visited Thor’s usual haunts, assuming that this version of his brother would have the same inclinations towards good food, good drink, and good fighting that Loki’s own version did. And indeed, in the late afternoon he found Thor in the training yard, sparring with several partners. Thor always preferred to train at this time of day, after which time he would wash and then, having worked up an appetite, sit down to a lavish supper.

Truth be told, Loki was no less susceptible to Thor’s charms than anyone else – his steady strength, his brilliant smile, the way his golden hair seemed to glow like a halo in the sunlight – Loki just did a better job of hiding his feelings beneath a veneer of acerbic wit. But it was here in the training yard, on a warm but breezy late spring day much like this one, that a youthful Loki had first experienced sexual arousal, and it had been in his brother’s arms. He was surely not the only person to have ever perceived the inherent eroticism of combat: the dance of thrust and parry, the panting with exertion, the unwavering eye contact while locked in each other’s arms or rolling around on the ground. Loki had always had to actively suppress those feelings whenever he and Thor had sparred out here, put those urges away for later. But it did not take him long to learn that Thor was having to do the same, and it made their inevitable secret visits to each other’s rooms that much more exciting, to know that they were both not merely desirous but unleashing their pent-up feelings for each other, guaranteeing that each clandestine encounter would be mutually explosive.

Seeing Thor now, blithely engaging in their special kind of courtship with strangers, made Loki fidget with jealousy. But he endured it, stood by and waited until Thor had saluted his sparring partners and turned to head for the baths. Looking confused and curious, he wandered right into Thor, and begged his pardon.

“Oh, are you Prince Thor?” Loki then asked, doing his best to sound awed.

“I am,” Thor replied cheerfully. He always responded well to fawning admirers, regardless of the circumstances in which he encountered them. He never felt himself inconvenienced by those who revered him.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” Loki said, and with a flourish and a bow, he proclaimed, “I am Loki, a prince lately of Midgard.”

“Ah!” said Thor. “I have not been there in a century or two. Is that how the Midgardians dress these days?”

Loki looked down at himself, slightly miffed at Thor’s remark but relieved that such a triviality was his most pressing inquiry. “It is the fashion amongst the noblest of my kingdom,” Loki said, unapologetically, as a prince would respond. “But that matters little anymore. I have just arrived here, and was told I should seek out Prince Thor, as he was the most kind and understanding of the House of Odin, and would be sympathetic to my plight.”

Thor cocked his head. “What plight is that?”

“On Midgard, you see, they have not the faintest comprehension of sorcery, and while I was until recently able to conceal my abilities, once they were discovered, I was compelled to leave, before I was faced with...incineration.”

Thor chuckled, seemingly at a distant memory. Then he remembered himself and said, seriously, “Yes, I recall that about Midgard. But if you yourself are Midgardian, how came you by these powers of sorcery?”

“I know not. I’ve had them all my life. Shall I give you a demonstration?” Before Thor could answer, Loki took hold of a nearby staff on a weapons rack, placed it into Thor’s hands, and transformed it into a snake of comparable size.

Thor’s face lit up, and he declared, “I love snakes!”

“That is about the limit of my powers, I’m afraid,” Loki said. He reckoned he would do well to make sure Thor saw his skills as light amusement, and not as threatening in any way. “I am told that on Asgard, the magic is much more impressive, and practical: you have healers, yes?”

“We do! The magic on Asgard is very powerful indeed.” The snake dissolved back into a staff, which Thor replaced on the rack. He then put his hand on Loki’s shoulder to guide him into the palace proper. “Let us talk. I was just about to avail myself of the baths here. Would you care to join me? I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but you look a little worse for wear, especially for a prince.” Thor made a gesture that indicated that more or less everything about Loki’s appearance, from his visible wounds to his battered clothing, had led to this conclusion.

Loki flinched. Having used all his efforts in concealing himself from Heimdall’s sight, in his exhaustion he had forgotten to glamour away his battered appearance. But he remembered that in this universe, the Bifrost would (most likely) not have been destroyed. “Yes,” he managed to say smoothly, “I had a rather difficult time on your rainbow bridge. It must take some practice to make that journey unscathed.”

“Indeed it does,” Thor said, laughing again at Loki’s apparent misfortune. “But you look a sight better than I did the first time I used it.”

Loki smiled, relieved that Thor not only believed him, but now had a new reason to sympathize with him.

“Let us visit the baths,” Thor said, “and then we will find some supper. Asgard is the most refreshing place in the Nine Realms, I promise. You’ll soon feel like a new man.”

“Wonderful,” Loki said. Except it wasn’t quite. He was not so much interested right now in using the communal baths; he never had been, being a very private person. And even if he typically were amenable to sharing a steam room with half a dozen other warriors, right now he wanted Thor’s company, and Thor’s company _only_. He affected a practiced vocal combination of modesty and licentiousness that he knew from experience Thor found irresistible, and said, “I don’t suppose you have any private baths, that we could use instead?”

Thor looked Loki up and down, in a different way than he had a moment ago when assessing his injuries. He was seeing past that now, to all the features of Loki’s face and body that he had in another life professed that he found appealing. “I do,” he drawled. “My rooms are on the other side of the palace, but I can take you there, if you prefer.”

Loki smiled, demurely. “I would love that.”

Thor led Loki through a maze of corridors that Loki could have navigated expertly on his own, though he made a show of craning his sore neck to get a look at every marginally impressive thing he saw. He remarked on Asgard’s spectacular architecture and lavish decor with amazement, as though he were seeing it for the first time. He made a point of specifying which parts of Midgard, his homeworld, were pathetic by comparison.

Beneath this feigned wonderment, Loki was concealing a completely different kind of exhilaration. As he strolled casually at Thor’s side, he felt as though his pounding heart might leap right out of his throat. He was well on his way to being deliciously pampered and thoroughly loved, so long as he did not accidentally reveal any familiarity with Thor and thus give away who he really was or where he was from. That gave this whole scenario a forbidden excitement, a feeling he had briefly worried might have escaped him here. In his old life, much of the thrill of lying with Thor had been how plainly forbidden it was. Bedded by his own brother: it was the wickedest thing he could do, wasn’t it? But the recent revelation that he and Thor were not actually related at all – that they were not even the same race – might, he feared, have watered down that enchanting taboo.

Now, however, his warm thoughts of what the evening might bring were fueled by his new secret: that he didn’t belong here, that he was trespassing in a universe that he shouldn’t be in, and that he had knowledge of this place and these people that gave him an advantage. His heart was infused with by the thrill of this new kind of naughtiness.

“If you prefer, I could drop you off with some of our healers,” Thor said, interrupting Loki’s reverie. “We have the finest in the Nine Realms. They’ll have you on the mend in no time. Perhaps you could even meet my mother, she–”

Loki recoiled at this suggestion. “No! That is, that seems rather involved. Right now I’d just like to relax in a hot bath, with some good company.” He placed his hand on Thor’s hard bicep, then let his fingers trail down Thor’s arm until their fingers brushed.

“I understand,” Thor said with a slow nod and a playful smile. They passed by two servants as they neared Thor’s rooms, and he instructed them, “Bring some food for me and my companion. And ready my bath.” They went scrambling away, with Thor calling after them, “And fetch some of that healing salve that Mother uses!” He then showed Loki to his bedroom. “The bath is just right through there. The water should be ready soon, and if you leave your clothes here, we can send them to be repaired and cleaned.”

Loki thought on this for a moment, ultimately deciding that there was nothing about his clothing that would hint at his origins or affiliations, and so agreed to this offer. When he looked over, Thor was already removing his tunic and vambraces, but when Loki reached for his own shoulder where his cape was fastened, and winced from the ache of the sudden movement, Thor stopped what he was doing and offered to help.

After Thor had unfastened the cape, and draped it over a chair, Loki continued to stand still, and made suggestions about the order in which his clothing and accoutrements should be removed. “Your attendants must have quite a time with you each morning and evening,” Thor said, as he removed first pauldrons, then vambraces, then greaves under Loki’s direction.

“I dress myself,” Loki said. “And undress myself. I don’t like having other people see me naked. It spoils my image, I suppose. How do you command respect from people who have had to assist you when you’re at your most vulnerable?”

“Yet you are allowing me the privilege, and am I not a stranger?”

Loki gave a little shrug, helping Thor get his surcoat off. “I get the feeling that seeing me naked would not lower your opinion of me.” He _hoped_ this was true.

When Thor began to struggle with the more complex aspects of his garments, Loki helped more, showing Thor where, for example, the hidden clasps were on his tunic. But he was feeling increasingly conflicted: Thor was someone, indeed the only person, he had willingly undressed in front of, and so on one hand this was nothing to be shy about. On the other hand, this was not _his_ Thor, and having gotten him undressed so easily (well, perhaps not easily – he was still working on the boots), this Thor might end up with the impression that Loki was easy, himself. Even after Loki had felt the first stirrings of lust for his brother, he decided it was best for Thor to spend a few months flirting, wheedling, and bargaining before earning the right to watch Loki undress and to lie with him, and that had been after they had known each other for a century or so. Now here he was, thirty minutes into an acquaintance, and he was about to divulge some very closely held secrets. But this acquaintance looked like Thor, and spoke like Thor, and had big rough hands that pulled charmingly at his clothing like Thor’s had, and that made it difficult for Loki to resist the reflex of his desires.

Thor did not make any remarks about the state of Loki’s body as he revealed it inch by inch, only paused occasionally to inspect his wounds. Loki’s skin tingled wherever Thor gently caressed his bruises, and he sighed and shivered at being so intimately caressed. But when Thor had Loki down to his underclothes, the creak of leather having given way to the whisper of silk, he finally commented, “That is certainly the most trouble I’ve ever seen the Bifrost give anyone. Are you sure you didn’t encounter a bilgesnipe along the way?”

“I may well have.” Loki saw Thor reaching out to tug the last of his clothes away, and had a sudden moment of panic. He said quickly, “I’ve actually never heard of bilgesnipe. Do you hunt them?”

“Do I!” Thor exclaimed, and without need of further prompting, began to discuss his encounters with bilgesnipe as though he’d had the speech prepared for weeks. He paused in his efforts to get Loki naked, as he needed both hands to gesture to indicate the dimensions of the bilgesnipe. Loki made facial expressions to indicate that he was listening, but took the opportunity to remove his underclothes while turning himself slightly away from Thor. He then took down the dressing gown that hung by the door; it was made to fit Thor, and so was far too big for him, but he felt safe and comfortable when he wrapped himself up in it. He wished to wait to make his final revelation when he was more relaxed; perhaps after they’d both had a little to drink.

As for Thor, he seemed to realize partway through his story that he himself was still half-dressed, and without a hitch carried on about his courage and skill while removing his boots and breeches, until he stood naked before Loki. It was a familiar sight, but still thrilling, for Loki had missed it desperately. He ignored the fine details of Thor’s recounted exploits in favor of taking in the sight of his smooth, tanned skin, his rock-solid muscles, and his thick, half-hard cock.

When Thor had at last finished his exposition about bilgesnipe hunting, he apologized for his over-enthusiasm, and said, “Let’s go into the bath; I’m sure it’s ready by now.”

Indeed, they found that fires had been lit, one in the corner fireplace and one beneath the enormous sunken bath, to keep the water hot. The servant who had lit the fires was nowhere to be seen, but the other one was just arriving with a silver tray laden with thick hunks of bread, sliced meats, a mountain of cheeses, a rainbow of fruit, and two goblets of wine. As Thor, casually naked, and Loki, still in Thor’s dressing gown, approached the edge of the bath, Thor directed the servant to leave the tray and to make sure they were not disturbed for the rest of the evening. As soon as they were alone, Loki took the last steps quickly enough to get in front of Thor before he dropped the dressing gown and stepped down into the tub.

The hot water made him groan with a mix of relief and pain; his sore muscles thanked him, but his scabbed-over wounds did not appreciate being touched by anything. With his eyes on the food, however, he was well enough distracted from those unpleasant sensations. He bobbed over to the other side of the tub and applied himself to the tray, exercising his last iota of restraint so as not to just shovel every morsel of food into his mouth simultaneously. It was not exaggeration or hyperbole to say that he could not remember when he’d last eaten properly.

Thor settled at his side, happy to help him demolish the contents of the tray. Loki knew how famished Thor got after an afternoon of training, and he was glad of it now, otherwise he would have looked ridiculous, cramming down this hearty fare and gulping the wine all by himself.

“You’ve got quite an appetite,” Thor said nonetheless, which made Loki pause and look at him, embarrassed. But then Thor went on: “I like it.” He grinned at Loki as though _he_ were a meal on a silver platter that had just been served.

As the sun set, the light that streamed in through the windows dimmed, and all the illumination in the room came from the roaring fire and a few sconces on the wall. Loki nudged the tray away when it was picked clean, and said, “The food was excellent, thank you.”

Thor closed some of the distance between them. “Feeling refreshed?” he said suggestively.

“A little.” Loki did not want to give the impression that he was ready to do anything other than relax a while longer.

“I know what would help.” Thor reached past Loki in a way that ensured that quite a lot of their bare skin touched, and picked up a thick, smooth square of soap. “Let me wash you.”

This was a proposition that Loki would happily agree to. He flashed a smile as he turned so that Thor could begin with his back and shoulders. As Thor pushed his long hair aside to scrub the back of his neck, he shivered at the a new sensation – his hair had never before been so long that Thor had to handle it. It gave him pleasant tingles down his spine, and he wondered what else would be new and different.

Thor’s thoroughly-lathered hands glided all over Loki’s skin, cleaning away the grime and sweat, but also slaking the thirst for touch that he’d ignored for so long. “Don’t be afraid to rub hard wherever there’s no bruising,” he assured Thor. “I could use it.”

“Wherever I _can_ find a spot with no bruising,” Thor said with a laugh. “Here, perhaps?”

Loki moaned unashamedly as Thor’s fingers dug into knotted and neglected muscles in his shoulder. And once he began to make a little noise, he found he could not hold it in; he whimpered and grunted like an animal, letting Thor know beyond a shadow of a doubt just how much he appreciated being attended to. His whole body seemed to liquefy under Thor’s touch, whether gentle or firm, and he was powerless to stop Thor from turning him this way and that, lifting his limbs to soap and rub them, groaning, “Yes, _yes_.”

And then, “Wait!” when Thor’s hands slid between his legs to squeeze and lather his prick. The way those hands froze for a moment, then darted about to investigate what seemed to Thor to be missing, sent Loki into a panic. “I meant to explain—” he began, but Thor interrupted.

“Can I see it?” he asked, and then without waiting for an answer toppled the nearby stack of towels, grabbed Loki around his middle, and hoisted him onto them. In an instant, his hands were on Loki’s thighs, parting them to expose what he had between them: his modest and exquisitely sensitive pink cock, seated at the apex of two plump lips, which were now spread to reveal his cunt.

Thor’s face lit up. For an instant, he looked like he was ready to dive face-first into his new discovery. But the second he felt Loki struggle against his grip, he let go and leaned back. Loki snapped his legs shut and scolded Thor, “There’s plenty of time for that later. Or are we in a hurry?”

Thor looked away, clearly unused to being reprimanded for his behavior. “I’m sorry.”

Loki waved his hand as if to cast the awkward moment aside. He was shaken, but in no way shocked that Thor had been curious and impulsive. “Don’t worry about it. Really, the rudest thing was doing that before letting me wash you in return, and leaving me in your debt.”

Still chastened, Thor hesitated, until he determined that Loki was being sincere. Then he said softly, “If you insist,” and leaned against the edge of the bath while Loki took up the soap and worked up a thick lather. Though ruffled, Loki couldn’t help but also feel reassured that Thor had seen what he had seen and had reacted with enthusiasm, in that moment before being told off.

Thor began to relax beneath Loki’s hands, and grew bold again. “If you don’t mind my saying, I don’t remember them looking like that on Midgard. Though as I mentioned, it has been a while since I visited.”

“You are probably remembering correctly. But recall also how I said I was seeking sanctuary away from Midgard? It wasn’t just because of the sorcery. How do you think it would have gone if I were compelled to choose a consort and it became known that I was…” He faltered, searching for the right way to end the sentence.

“So uniquely beautiful?” Thor suggested.

Loki was silent. He was going to say something much less kind. Though the reason for his unusual configuration had become clear when he’d learned of his true heritage, that did not erase the centuries he’d spent not knowing why he was different. As a child, only his parents knew what he looked like there, and then later Thor, when Loki became certain that Thor’s love was unconditional, making him the only person with whom he could express the need for affection that he’d become overwhelmed with in his young adulthood. He quietly washed Thor’s body, so familiar but so desperately missed and longed for, and was grateful that Thor’s affable acceptance of the strange and unusual extended to this universe, too.

Loki never responded to Thor’s flattering phrase; instead, minutes went by with nothing but the sounds of the sloshing, sluicing water, and the peacefulness was soothing.

Loki ran his fingertips over some prominent scars on Thor’s back, their unfamiliar shapes and locations a reminder that this was not _his_ Thor. “You are a brave warrior,” he murmured, then added quickly, “no doubt? I’ve spent my life in the search for knowledge and the occasional amusement, and little more; only recently have I learned to respect those who are absolutely fearless in the their exploits and pursuits.”

Thor rested his head on his crossed arms on the edge of the bath. “You don’t seem like a fearful person, yourself.”

“Lately I’ve been thinking about it, actually, and I now feel that all along, my life has been ruled by fear. Fear masked as other things.”

Despite these cryptic declarations, Thor understood – or thought he understood – what Loki was getting at. “Fear of disappointing your father? Fear of not being good enough? Fear of making an absolute mess of your rule?”

Loki laughed, despite himself. “Is there any other way for a prince to feel?”

Thor raised himself up, and Loki sat back to give him room to turn around so they could face one another. “I’ll bet we have a lot in common,” Thor said. “I feel very close to you already, despite our short acquaintance.”

“I feel the same,” Loki said. He turned his head so that when he blinked, Thor would not see the single hot tear that fell onto his cheek. “Brave warrior, will you hold me in your arms for a while? The food and the bath have been invaluable, but those arms have some restorative properties of their own, I think.”

Thor held out his arms, and Loki collapsed against him, so happy to be enfolded in his grasp that he began to cry more freely, though he had the common courtesy to be silent and still about it, and allow Thor to continue talking about his own insecurities about being the Prince of Asgard. He focused his misty gaze on the rivulets of water sliding down Thor’s chest as it gently rose and fell, and was soothed by the low rumbling beneath his ear.

“I can’t believe I’m telling you these things,” Thor confessed finally. “I’ve never admitted to a single moment of doubt before. But I suppose it makes sense. I am Odin’s only son, everything depends on me, and no one else is in my position. You’re the first person I’ve had the chance to speak to who can really understand how it feels.”

“Yes,” Loki said against Thor’s chest. “I’ve felt so very alone.” He caught himself, and added, “That is, I mean to say that I am also an only child.”

Thor held him until the water began to cool, then startled Loki into an upright position when he suddenly, if quietly, cursed himself. “How could I have forgotten?” he said, and reached for the silver box containing the healing salve. “Here you’ve been sitting with your wounds no doubt paining you, when I could have been helping.”

“It’s alright,” Loki said, as Thor opened the box, scooped out a generous dollop of the balm, and began applying it to his skin. There was almost nowhere he didn’t need it; even where he had not been lacerated by some threat or other, he was otherwise bruised and battered. The salve cleaned and closed his wounds, and even shrank the nasty purple blotches beneath his skin. Thor insisted on inspecting Loki very carefully, so that he would not miss a single inch of flesh that required his care. Once he’d treated Loki’s head, neck, shoulders, arms, and chest, he had Loki stand up in the water, so that he might tend to his belly, back, and thighs. The relief from the stinging of his wounds was a thrill enough, but receiving tender, patient attention from Thor, being at this moment the absolute center of his world, was making Loki excited, physically.

Thor’s expression made it clear that he saw Loki’s arousal, but he had learned his lesson earlier, and left it alone for now. When Thor had seen to all his wounds, Loki sighed, “I feel so much better; I can’t thank you enough.”

“It was my pleasure, I assure you,” Thor said. “Pity the water’s going cold, but the towels will be nice and warm, hm?”

Thor helped Loki step out of the tub, then snatched up one of the towels that had been stacked between the bath and the fire. He set to work drying Loki as carefully and with as much affectionate attention to detail as he had demonstrated when applying the healing salve. He worked all the way down Loki’s body once again, patting every inch of him dry while Loki remained still and drank it in.

When he was finished, Thor stood up again, his nose an inch from Loki’s skin as he raised himself to stand at his full height. Loki looked up at him, lips slightly parted, then let his eyes fall shut, and waited until he got a rare treat indeed: his very first kiss from Thor, for the second time.

Always, Thor kissed not just with his mouth but with his entire body: he dropped the towel so that he could encircl Loki with both arms. He gripped Loki’s behind with two strong hands, pulling him close, letting Loki feel how his cock was getting hard. He made low noises in his throat, like he was devouring a delicious meal. Loki crumpled against him, his body begging to be held and cradled and taken, which he was somewhat embarrassed about but not enough to straighten up and assert himself in any way, until at last he breathed, “Brave Prince Thor, take me to bed.”

The bedroom was considerably cooler, but a fire had been laid earlier, and Thor invited Loki to make himself comfortable while he lit it. Loki sauntered over to Thor’s enormous bed, this one draped in a different arrangement of furs than its counterpart in Loki’s own universe. He stretched himself out on it, excited to think of once again being rolled around upon the skins of the great vicious beasts that Thor had slain. While this Thor had not yet had the benefit of decades of his careful instruction in how to please him in every way, Loki was confident that a foundation of basic skills would suffice for the night, and that he would not leave this bed unsatisfied.

“It should be quite cozy in here soon,” Thor said as he stepped away from the fireplace. “But I can keep you warm in the meantime.” He knelt on the edge of the bed and crawled up to cover Loki’s body with his own. Once more, Loki thrilled to a sensation that was both comforting in its familiarity and yet novel for it’s almost having been forgotten. He wriggled with excitement and anticipation beneath Thor’s body, and they shared many more kisses.

Thor had one knee on either side of Loki’s, which Loki began to find confining. He pushed Thor away, urging him to sit up in the middle of the bed. Then, looking Thor in the eye, he spread his legs, and watched Thor’s expression as his eyes finally dared to dart away and take in his reward for his patience.

Thor confessed, “It’s even more beautiful when you show it to me so willingly.”

“I can forgive you for being a little over-eager,” Loki said, and then thought, _It is, after all, what makes you so much fun_. He gently spread himself to show Thor everything, and Thor sat paralyzed and slack-jawed; his cock, which had been stiff and standing for some time, twitched against his belly at the sight, and Loki regarded it with comparable eagerness. He wanted so badly for Thor to pound him with that cock. Well, to be more accurate, he wanted Thor first to _tease_ him with that cock, to give it to him a little at a time, until he was absolutely out of his mind with desire, and _then_ he wanted Thor to pound him with it. But he was afraid that he would not get the teasing first from this untrained Thor if he appeared too eager. He would have to play it cool.

“Oh, but that’s so big,” Loki murmured, his eyes riveted to Thor’s cock. He hinted heavily, “I think you might have some work ahead of you, getting me ready to take all of it.”

“I have no fear of putting in the extra effort,” Thor boasted. “Knowing that we’ll both be happy that I did.”

Thor got down onto his belly and settled himself between Loki’s thighs. His beard brushed against Loki’s most sensitive skin, and he breathed against that smooth, pale flesh, “Have you really never shared yourself with anyone before?”

“You’re my first,” Loki said, and this was not entirely a lie.

“I will show you how good it can be.”

Loki reclined, and allowed Thor to do this.

What this Thor lacked in careful training, he made up for in unstoppable enthusiasm. Though Loki used nudges of his hands and the roll of his hips to get Thor in just the right spots, most of his pleasure was derived simply from watching Thor lick and slurp at him like he’d been waiting to do it his whole life. Thor never paused to ask if he was doing a good job – not even to take a breath, really. It was as though he was pleasuring _himself_ first, and Loki’s satisfaction was incidental. This, Loki actually found very exciting, as the pressure was off him to perform his pleasure, to react a certain way, to reach his climax and relieve Thor of the onerous duty that he’d taken on. Thor was in heaven, and that allowed Loki to drift there, too.

Loki could not imagine Thor tackling any task with as much vigor as he did licking Loki’s cunt – that is, until he turned his attention to Loki’s prick, and somehow things escalated further. Thor easily fit the whole thing in his mouth, and worked his tongue over every inch, sucking hard and moaning around it. Loki was brought to the verge of orgasm so quickly that he could barely comprehend what was happening, and then when Thor slid two fingers into his soft, wet cunt, and Loki arched spent himself right in Thor’s mouth, without warning.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting it so quickly either,” Loki said, as Thor wiped his mouth and rested his chin on Loki’s hip, grinning.

“It’s perfectly alright.” Thor said. “Better than alright, amazing. I could feel your whole body shaking as you spent, and it was marvelous to witness.”

Loki turned his face away, embarrassed, but smiled.

Thor extended his tongue to lick Loki’s prick clean, but Loki squirmed. “It’s very sensitive just now – but don’t take your fingers out!” He gripped Thor’s hand to keep it where it was. “I’m just getting started there.”

Thor sank his fingers more deeply into Loki, then got up on his knees, adjusting his position so they could kiss while he did it. Every time his fingers pistoned in, he thrust his tongue into Loki’s mouth, and this mirrored sensation soon had Loki on the brink again. He moaned into Thor’s mouth as he shook all over, gushing over Thor’s fingers.

“Give me that great beast you’ve got,” was Loki’s gasping plea as he broke free of their kiss. “I need it slowly, but I need it.”

Thor scooped Loki’s legs behind the knees and put them on his shoulders. He placed the blunt head of his enormous cock against Loki’s cunt, and Loki couldn’t help himself; he began to wriggle to get it in. He was electrified with anticipation, because he knew how good that cock felt going in, and right now it required more restraint than he was capable of to feign ignorance of what he was in for. But Thor held him tightly and gave his cock gradually, conscientiously; he knew what he had, and he knew he had to be careful with it.

In truth, Loki had long ago trained both his cunt and arsehole to take Thor’s formidable girth without pain, but still it always pushed him to his absolute limits. As wet and relaxed as he was, taking it remained a test of his capabilities. But even aside from that, despite his impatience he appreciated Thor putting it in slow, so that he could watch Thor’s expression change, and hear the little noises of wonder he made, the deeper he got inside, the more he got squeezed by Loki’s warm, flexing cunt. Loki spread his legs wide as Thor nudged his way in, testing and teasing. He made lots of noise, letting Thor know that he loved the challenge. It truly was astonishing, and not at all difficult for Loki to pretend that his cunt was being opened up and filled with cock for the very first time.

Sometimes, in the past, Loki had asked for a good fucking from Thor – _his_ Thor – even when he didn’t want it, when all he really wanted was the closeness, because he’d believed that lust was the only kind of weakness it was acceptable to show. Just pressed against each other with their limbs entwined, that was where he felt safe and happy, and he cried out with joy now, just to be so close to Thor, as close as he could get, closer than he ever thought he would be again. To feel his weight, and smell his sweat, and hear his besotted mutterings, was a treasure more precious to Loki than glory or power. Thor’s love was a feast, an endless celebration.

And, lofty notions of affection aside, this Thor had a wonderful cock, and could use it tirelessly and with skill. Though he lacked the finesse that came from years of Loki’s training, he knew enough about how to treat Loki right to have him wrapping his legs around Thor’s hips and kicking him in the arse with his heels to urge him on. “Please, yes,” he whimpered as Thor seated himself fully. “I’ve felt so empty inside for so long.”

How each identical stroke could be more pleasurable than the last, how each consistent thrust could drive him closer to the pinnacle, Loki had never understood, but when the feeling of inevitable ecstasy began to coil in his belly, he embraced it, let Thor bring him to a powerful climax, an all-to-brief but wonderfully vibrant tapestry of sensations both physical and emotional. He felt radiant, consumed with adoration for Thor, a depth of affection which was only reinforced by the first sensory information he received clearly after returning to the physical world: Thor asking him, “Would you like another? I won’t finish until you’re satisfied.”

Loki laughed. “Another would be lovely.” Though barely recovered from this third orgasm, he was still in need, and asked Thor to retreat only long enough for him to turn over and get on his hands and knees. Having made it this far, he decided he wanted to see how many times Thor could make him climax, and he wanted each one to be in a different arrangement. This position he found particularly arousing and easy to find satisfaction in; it always made him feel like an animal in heat who needed to be thoroughly serviced, and Thor had always, in his experience, fulfilled his role in that scenario admirably.

His fourth orgasm had him collapsing to the bed, flat on his belly, and this time Thor did not bother asking; he parted Loki’s legs with his own, penetrated him once more, and continued. Loki screamed his next orgasm into the pillow, and as soon as he was done, Thor rolled off him, pulled Loki to him so they lay back-to-front, and carried on.

This went on until Loki had lost count of all the positions Thor put him in. He had never had his legs spread in so many different ways at so many different angles in one evening, and the more he felt like an insatiable trollop, the easier it was to come again. And with each orgasm, he could swear he felt his strength returning. It may simply have been that he was momentarily forgetting his fatigue and pain, but he wanted to believe that new reserves of energy were being awakened in him; or perhaps it was a gift from Thor, who had vigor and vitality to spare.

This whole time, Thor had been doing nearly all the work, but now that Loki was feeling more energized, he wanted to give him a treat, so he insisted Thor lie on his back, and then mounted him, hands flat on his chest as he engulfed Thor with his hot, throbbing cunt once again. He rode Thor at a gallop until he was wracked by shuddering ecstasy and grunting with the effort.

Then he was still for just a moment. Thor noticed his contemplative expression, and waited. Loki decided that just one more orgasm would be enough to satisfy him for the night, but his cunt was getting sore and overworked, so he instead gave Thor one more treat – he raised himself up just high enough for Thor’s cock to slip out of him, then grasped it behind the head and nudged it against his arsehole. It slipped in easily enough, slick as it was from having been in his juicy cunt.

He relished Thor’s expression as it dawned on him what was happening, where his cock was going now: shock, then bliss. Loki flexed his thighs and resumed working himself on Thor’s cock. Thor insisted on helping, grabbing Loki’s arse in both hands and guiding him up and down, but Loki was twisting and writhing and putting on a show for him, and so Thor couldn’t focus on much more than just watching the spectacle.

Loki’s prick was hard again and in need of attention, and he leaned back and stroked himself shamelessly before Thor’s wide eyes. Between his busy hand and Thor’s cock hitting every sweet spot inside him, Loki’s final orgasm was sharp and prolonged, and his shrieking could have awakened their ancestors – even the ones in Jotunheim. “ _Now_ ,” he cried, begging Thor to fill him up before the last of his energy was finally depleted. Thor was as obedient as ever, pumping his hips and then going suddenly still as his seed gushed forth. His guttural groans as he emptied himself were a fine complement to Loki’s high sobbing.

Finally, they could be still. As his satisfied body finally calmed, Loki unashamedly looked Thor in the eyes, and they laughed at how loud and rambunctious they had been, how ridiculously exuberant. The sweat cooled on their skin, and Thor’s cock softened at last, making Loki more sharply aware of what a mess he was. “Have you got a washbasin?” he asked.

Thor tried to raise one hand to gesture, but he was apparently too tired, so he just let his head loll in the appropriate direction. “It’s behind that screen,” he said. Then, as if suddenly realizing that he was being rude to his guest, he found the strength to haul himself up. “Let me get it for you.”

“Don’t bother. I prefer to do it myself.” Loki put a hand on Thor’s shoulder to keep him where he was. He rolled off the bed, got to his feet…and promptly collapsed as his weak knees buckled under him. Thor sprang from the bed and bent to help him up. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he joked, and insisted that Loki return to bed. Unwilling to protest, Loki complied, and Thor brought him back a damp washcloth.

Loki didn’t like to be tidied up by anyone but himself, but the cool washcloth was so soothing, he couldn’t help but relax and let himself be tended to. As he watched himself being carefully washed by Thor once more, he was suddenly flooded with a confusing mixture of affection and regret. This Thor was kind and sweet, but it was not the Thor that he had spent a thousand years with. _His_ Thor loved him in a deep and boundless way that this Thor didn’t. And _his_ Thor loved him despite everything he knew about Loki’s true origins, his poisonous envy, his endless deception. Whoever this man was who had just given him an evening of pleasure, he had not given Loki a life of devotion. He had not spent centuries learning to appreciate what Loki gave to him. Could he truly comprehend how special it was, what they’d just shared?

Or was Loki deceiving himself, by imagining that his Thor still belonged to him? Was it time for him to accept that what he had done on Midgard was unforgivable? There was probably no going back to that life – even if Thor _had_ forgiven him, a tall order, it was too dangerous for him there anyway.

Loki was too depleted to conceal his emotions, and this time, Thor caught him weeping. “Please tell me I haven’t hurt you!” he cried, tossing the washcloth aside and gathering Loki up in his arms.

“You haven’t,” Loki said, patting Thor’s arm where he could reach, now that he was being sweetly embraced again. “You were a wonder. It’s just…there is a saying on Midgard: _All animals are sad after sex_.”

“Is that true?”

Having been several different animals at one time or another, Loki felt he could speak with some authority: “It’s only the sudden fall from bliss, which disorients us, I think.”

Thor nuzzled Loki’s ear, refusing to join him in his melancholy. “But there’s always the next climb to bliss to look forward to, is there not?”

It was difficult for Loki to cling to despair while being gently crushed by Thor’s big arms in a languid post-coital embrace. Loki began to reevaluate his situation. Why should he be so upset, when faced with the brilliant new life he could make for himself here? In this Asgard, he was not Odin’s foundling, but a firstborn prince if he wanted to be. No more would he have to live in the shadow of the brother he adored. No more would he be humiliated at every turn by his second-born status, by his secret ancestry. No more would he be compelled to seek more power out of envy, and be outwitted and out-quipped at every turn. Here, no one was tired of his tricks and games. No one would treat him as little more than a bundle of expectations and burdens. And here, Thor’s love, though new, was pure, unsullied by stupid mistakes and botched schemes. Surely his best days were ahead of him.

Loki resolved, then: he would be happy here. He would take his time, and painstakingly fill this Thor’s heart the same as he had done with his own Thor, even if it took another thousand years. He had nothing better to do for the moment.

**Author's Note:**

> berlynn-wohl.tumblr and @berlynnwohl on Twitter for more of this sort of nonsense


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